Mirror, Mirror (Revamp Ver)
by Suledin
Summary: A one-shot based on a completely random inspiration about Merrill's experience with the eluvian. Not canon. "Forget your friends, forget your love, remember only the eluvian."


**Note:** Hello and thanks for stopping by! Be warned that this is a creepy story (as intended), and I have no idea where the inspiration came from. It just hit me - and yes, some things will be very off as far as the actual powers of the eluvian go.

AU for the effects an eluvian can cause _(lets just pretend we don't know what the eluvians can do)_, but if you have finished Inquisition you should notice that I had apparently guessed something!

I'm not sure if any trigger warnings are needed… umm _blood magic, possession/out-of-body experience & other strange things_ - Please do not read if any of those warnings affect you!

_**POV changes at a certain point, but starts off with Merrill's POV.**_

**Revamped 12/4/2014**

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><p>When gazing into the ocean of infinite wisdom that chained itself inside the eluvian I could almost swear that I can see everything that has ever existed.<p>

I see our irremediable future; filled with passionate rebellion and hatred. War spread across the nations, reaching up to the very sky. An ugly mark crossing the sky, leaving a scar.

I see our corrupted past; deception running as thick as blood. Wrong. We were all wrong. Tevinter, Elvhenan - our very gods and goddesses too.

I found a technique to secure even more of the infinite wisdom: My blood. The eluvian seems to grow stronger from my blood; its already ominous aura intensified when I used blood magic to simplify the process of piecing it together. When my sticky life fluid touches the ancient mirror a sanguine realm flashes into sight within it's shattered, reflective surface. Seeing the tranquil realm gives me peace of mind, instantly calming my agitated nerves. I was conscious of the ever-lurking demons beyond the fade from my use of magic, even more so with blood magic. Observing the beaming faces of cherubs from the foreign, ancient world gives me more happiness than being held in Hawke's warm embrace ever granted.

I want - _I need_ to go to that other world, no matter the price.

Body.

Soul.

Blood.

The worst part is that I know that I _can and how_ to accomplish this wish.

"Fix the mirror," A feminine voice whispered, seemingly right next to my ear. I could've sworn the voice echoed off of the walls.

I piece the eluvian together, and yet when I put my hand against the cracked surface with my hand coated in blood, my mind busy reaching beyond the veil for the answer to fix the mirror, instead all I can do is see that nirvana.

It will not let me pass. It refuses to share its wisdom. I know it's in there, I am simply being blocked. By a barrier? Ancient ward? Elven magic is known to last through the ages, but to linger in a broken artifact is simply… Impressive.

"Am I too wicked to pass through your sinless gate?" I ask the seeing-glass aloud. My frustration with the small amount of progress with the mirror was nearing my limit.

When no answer came I sighed in exasperation, then mumbled my only justification, "I only wish to help." Which was a lie, and I continued to convince myself with that lie.

I'm told that I'm mad… Perhaps I am, but when I gaze into the seeing-glass's world I feel perfectly sane.

Hawke worries, naturally, in his kind-spirited way. I tell him that I'm beyond hope and worry, that his concern is wasted; my fate with the blighted mirror is inevitably entangled. Even his enduring love and compassion that he so willingly expresses cannot change that. I love this unfortunate man, but he is not the only thing that holds my attention. I also love the seeing-glass's world, filled with knowledge. I subconsciously seek it out further, and if it weren't for Hawke, I think I'd be completely lost in that world.

I once tried to stop for his sake, but my body and mind would not allow it. The frightening scene when I realized my body was no longer under my own control was the moment that I _fully_ recognized the danger I was running by using blood magic. I had been warned heavily by the Keeper, but I was _ever_ the curious rebel mage. Like the clan children were warned not to go too far into the woods for The Dread Wolf lingers out there, awaiting the moment to jump on his unsuspecting prey. _Of course_ the children went farther than they should.

The thing Templars fear most, besides their lyrium store running out.

_Maleficarum._

As they say, "Curiosity killed the nug." I was surely going to kill myself, or those around me if I continued. I watched as my body unsheathed the small blade that Hawke had secured on my cincture incase of any threats, and in a slow movement, jaggedly drew it across my wrists. I felt no pain, only a dull sensation crossing my wrist.

Blood pooled onto the floor as my mouth began chanting incantations in a language that I didn't even recognize, in a voice that didn't belong to me. The foreign aura that intensified around the mirror only drove my uncontrolled body on faster; the chanting picked up faster, louder.

My very soul was disconnected from my body. I stood like a phantom, watching my body commit the sacrilegious act. Strangely, I only felt one singular emotion: Happiness. No shame for letting down the Keeper. No remorse for abandoning Hawke in our relationship. Not a single hint of self-condemnation for the sinful act.

After a while the chanting slowed, and I could only make out one sentence:

_"Vittoria per Asha'bellanar!"_

Suddenly, my consciousness returned to it's rightful place: (seemingly) in my body. The stinging pain hit me instantly, I gasped and clutched my bloody wrist, only making the laceration even more painful. My head bobbed as I struggled not to drop immediately on the floor, teetering on the edge of consciousness. My body weakly convulsed, with the last of my energy I let out a blood curdling scream as I tumbled out of consciousness.

I awoke with a slow start; feeling something akin to a cold cloth at my forehead and a contrastingly warm hand holding my own loosely. I tore my eyes open to find myself in Anders' clinic. I looked to my left, the direction from where my hand was being held, to find Hawke asleep in the cot closest to mine. His brows furrowed, probably from the stress he was under on a daily basis. I reminded myself that I had just caused more trouble for him.

My body immediately froze with guilt when I glanced to our linked hands. Remorse and self-pity flooded my thoughts as I recalled what had occurred for me to find myself in such a predicament.

'How did they find me in time?' I wondered to myself, biting my dry lips.

Something stirred to my right and I turned my head in that direction to meet Anders' gaze, his amber eyes filled with judgement, like they were piercing a hole in me. I nearly worked up enough pride to feel angry at his offending stare, but remembered the troubled expression Hawke had in his sleep, and the guilt bit my tongue for me.

I tore my gaze away from Anders' to spare a look in Hawke's direction. A painful throb began to pound in the back of my head as a familiar voice spoke seemingly next to my ear,_ "Forget about guilt, remember only the eluvian."_

"Did you hear that?" I asked too loudly, in a shaken voice. I had only remembered that Hawke was asleep when he stirred next to me, gripping my hand tightly in surprise.

"Hear what?" Hawke asked groggily, slowly rubbing his eye with his spare hand while sitting up in the short cot.

"I didn't hear anything," Anders answered, his brow arched, curious. His gaze wasn't sparing any of the suspicion that I _knew_ he felt.

"I am losing my mind," I thought aloud while shaking my head.

"I know," Hawke answered shortly before untangling our hands, not roughly, which surprised me. I had expected him to be mad or try to convince me to stop my… restoration of the mirror, but his silence spoke more words than he ever could. He nodded in Anders' direction before stomping out the clinic. He didn't even look in my direction on his way out.

I understand what you're saying.

_I miss the old me too._

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><p><strong><em>(3rd Person POV switch)<em>**

Hawke agreed to help one the troubled elf one last time. If it didn't work out they both agreed that she'd give up on the mirror for good. Even if he had to make a deal with a demon, if that's what it took to get her mind back in the… right place, he'd do it. He had reached the breaking point when a courier from Darktown that Anders often used rushed to his door, holding a message that only brought his heart sinking and his heart-rate rising.

'_Merrill was brought in the clinic and I think you should come as soon as you can. She's fine so don't panic._

_The elfs who brought her in said they heard her let out a scream loud enough that they feared she was in the process of being murdered. They walked in on her passed out on the floor, which was covered in blood, mind you. Upon inspection she is without a single scratch on her._

_P.S. _

_Hawke, I don't know what she's up to, but I know enough of these signs to say that it is unsavory. For both of you. It's not my place to say anything, but please try to talk sense into her before she really kills herself._

_Anders'_

Hawke missed Merrill, dreadfully so. Upon learning of the mirror and that she could possibly restore it she had lost herself completely. She began to cut off all outside ties, and would sit in that little room, just staring at _it _or searching desperately for a solution. Little did he know that when Merrill had been silent all that time she had been in the middle of a battle with herself; fighting the words that kept echoing in her mind.

_"Forget your friends, forget your love, remember only the eluvian."_

The obliteration of her former clan and the traumatic possession of Keeper Marethari had been enough to bring enough of her former-self back. Enough to fight the desperation, greed and despair.

"What is wrong with me?!" She wailed, eyes red, blinded from freely flowing tears as she looked among the dead bodies and found many familiar faces.

That was the night she smashed the eluvian back to pieces. All of her effort; all of those lives; all of her _blood…_ wasted. Hawke watched, partially relieved that Merrill had… awakened, but regretting the sacrifice that it took.

While smashing the accursed seeing-glass, that sanguine realm flashed into vision again, attempting to gain control once more. Merrill's determination stood strong and as that… consciousness was aware that Merrill was now a threat the once beaming features on the cherubs darkened at her abrupt actions. She sensed the final hold the unknown realm possessed over her slip, as she spoke to the mirror directly:

_"I will not allow you to control me any longer. You will not take my sanity. You will not take my life."_

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><p><strong>Note: <strong>Woo! I'm so glad to revamp this story, as it was desperately needing it. It was written in a rush of insane inspiration a year (I believe) ago. For a link to the cover please look in my bio, and I have permission to use the lovely artwork!

Per usual, if you spot any errors, don't understand anything or whatnot, feel free to comment/review. Please R&R if you feel like it!

Thanks for reading~


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